Freeing My Alpha: Book 2 of My Shy Alpha

Chapter 7

CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of past abuse, PTSD episode

"I need to talk to you about something shitty," Noah mutters as he tucks his towel around his bare waist.

I halt in place, my hairbrush combed halfway through my hair. "Okay, what is it?"

We meet eyes in the bathroom mirror, but Noah only looks more uncomfortable by the second. I set my brush down, spinning around to face him directly.

Droplets spill from Noah's hair like a timer counting down the seconds. The only sound in the room is the buzzing fan over our heads, still pumping out damp air from our hot bath.

It's been over a week since we were ambushed by Alpha-domination cultists, but Noah has been quieter ever since. Tenser. I haven't had much of a chance to ask him about it; we've hardly had alone time together with how busy he's been. Thankfully, it's finally Saturday. But with me looking at him face-to-face, Noah's shoulders raise.

I rub his arm. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I just– I don't ever know how to bring this up. I feel bad bringing it up."

I sigh, dropping my hand. "This is about Steven, isn't it?"

He meets my eyes again, hurt racing across his features.

I pull him over to the toilet seat, plopping myself on the closed lid. Then I pat my lap. "Come sit."

Noah lifts one eyebrow, unable to suppress a smile. "Sweet Omega, I don't think–"

"Don't you dare call me tiny, you big, sweet Alpha."

Noah's soft laugh lightens my spirits by miles.

With a soft tug on his hand, I convince Noah to hover-sit in my lap. I burst out laughing. "You have to actually put some weight on me!"

"No," he laughs, shaking out a few droplets from his hair and spraying my face.

I scream-giggle, burrowing my face between his shoulder blades.

With my arms wrapped around his waist, we sit in silence. But after 30 seconds, Noah scoops me up, switching our positions.

"Fine, I give up," I laugh. "But don't think you're upsetting me just by saying his name. Part of what I've worked on with Jenny in therapy is speaking words out loud - treating words and thoughts like words and thoughts, not like real-life dangers to avoid. It's helped."

Noah nods, kissing my shoulder. "O-okay, that's good to hear."

"So what about Steven did you want to ask?"

Noah's eyebrows flinch when I say Steven's name. "I still think that my questions could be extremely triggering."

I clear my throat, dropping my eyes to my hands. I'm tempted to pick at my nails. "Are you talking about the break-in?"

Noah rapidly shakes his head, but this time his water-flinging doesn't make me laugh. His stare clings to the bathroom tile, avoiding my face. "No, not about any particular acute trauma. I don't want you to relive that moment unless you have to."

The sharp silence between us makes my heart race. Somehow, I'm touched.

I'm also relieved; I don't really want Noah thinking too much about the exact details of the break-in. He probably wants to hear them - at least once - and I know his thoughts aren't in my control. But for now, the thought of anyone I know imagining me in that state makes me feel weak all over again.

I'd never call another person in my shoes "weak," but this was Steven's goal. He knew I felt like an exception, and he exploited it. To his credit, he was an excellent manipulator of my brain. I still find little pieces of his teachings in the background of my thoughts.